Loving
by le bambi
Summary: Hermione Granger has always been a strong willed and intelligent young woman, but after Voldemort wins the Second Wizarding War and gains control of the wizarding world, she is imprisoned. After being released her life is completely out of her control.
1. Chapter 1

The prisoner rubbed her cheek against the rough stone wall of her cell. She let out a soft moan as she felt the wind seep in through the iron bars that faced the outside of the prison. Her only look at the outside world was through those bars, and even when she looked through them, they mocked her. The sunlight that she could see in the distance was never enough to warm her face. The wind that slipped through the bars and the cracks in the walls made the ends on the rags she wore flutter. Her entire body was dirty in one way or another, but she could barely see in the dismal cell she had spent so much time in.

"You are being released."

She shut her eyes tightly when she faced the unusually bright light of the silver patronus, so she couldn't see what it was. It repeated itself again.

"You are being released."

Her gasp was followed by the clacking of her chains as she moved around for the first time in hours, she stood and shielded her eyes as she looked into the dark distance that for once was lighting up with the dim fire lanterns that they used to light the hallways. She slowly crept towards it, the dragging sound of the chain on her left ankle following behind her. She looked at the guard and flinched when he spat at the ground at her feet, some splashing against her bare toes.

"Follow me," he said gruffly, crouching down in front of her and unlocking the cuff around her ankle. She jerked her knee forward slightly but disguised the sudden movement with a twist of her ankle; in reality she was almost ready to knee the guard in her face and escape, but she had to keep her instincts contained. She still had her survival instincts intact, she realized gladly.

A spark of hope lit her face as she looked at the hallway that she had barely seen in the last five years. She was twenty two now, but she had the slow, sluggish movements of an old woman. Her hair was longer than ever, reaching past her waist in different hues of brown and sometimes gold. Her eyes had dark circles and her pupils were still huge, slowly decreasing as she became more accustomed to the light. Her body which was once slim and limber was now terribly skinny and often boney in some places. The guards made jokes of her getting dragged around by the wind with how small she was.

"Why – why am I being released?" Hermione whispered. Her voice was husky. She had lost her sense of hope but she didn't lose her sense of time and awareness – she knew he was still at large, why would he let her be released?

The guard ignored her and led her through the winding hallway and finally they reached a dead end. "Alohamora," he said quietly, pointing his wand at the lock. Hermione murmured the familiar spell under her breath and enjoyed the feeling of familiarity. She looked at how he poised his wand and noticed how easily she could take it in that instant – if she just grabbed the wand and punched him once in the gut and the other in the face, distracting him for a moment; she could slip through the door and escape with the wand. But she didn't. She surprised herself with these quick tactics that kept coming to her. Had these thoughts been the result of the war five years ago?

He grabbed Hermione's arm roughly and pulled her through the door, kicking it shut behind them followed by the click of the lock sliding shut. She vaguely recognized the room they were in as the office she had been in five years ago when she first came here. It looked a lot like the Ministry offices, with a series of desks arrayed throughout the room with piles of paper on each one, and a few doors lining walls on either side of her with golden plaques with signatures on them. The walls were a dark blue, and it was lit with enchanted lamps in every corner. The guard dragged her to one skittish man's desk. He shoved her into the seat opposite the man and stood behind her with his arms folded across his chest.

The man took one look at Hermione and sighed inwardly. The young woman he had come to known through newspapers just years ago looked nothing like the one he saw now. Hermione felt his scrutinizing gaze and shyly met his eyes.

"State your name and number," he demanded.

"Hermione Granger, sir, number 731H."

"Reason for arrest?"

"Treason, murder," she nearly snarled. Her eyes turned dark and she turned them to the ground to keep from alarming the man.

The man, Al, caught onto this and glanced quickly at the oaf standing behind the frail young lady to see if he had noticed the change in her demeanor also. The guard was obliviously looking around the office, obviously uncomfortable in the more regal part of Azkaban. "Who is giving permission for her early leave?" he asked the guard.

The guard looked down at a piece of parchment in his hand. "King Voldemort," he responded. Hermione's eyes snapped back up immediately. Voldemort wanted her out of prison? But it's only been five years, she was sure she would end up rotting in there if it had been up to him. She had gotten off easy, actually. She could have very well died there on the spot, but instead she had been tortured and spared, if rather cruelly, still. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the title though – she could see his greed for power seeping through his name.

Al scribbled the forbidden name down with heightened interest. "What is their reason?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice keen.

"Arranged marriage, apparently."

Hermione squeaked. "Excuse me? Excuse me, what did he just say?" she asked, leaning forward in her chair towards Al. Her brown eyes were wide with fright and her pale cheeks were beginning to flush. "I'm supposed to have an arranged marriage? That's impossible! I'm – I'm a…," she didn't want to say the word but she knew it would help her case a tad more. "I'm a convict!"

Al's eyes softened and when he noticed the guard wasn't listening he whispered, "I'm so very sorry, Miss Granger. This happens very often here, actually. King Voldemort promotes pureblood breeding, and encourages arranged marriages based on character traits of either person. Someone must have found you an admirable character to want to have children with you. Reputations mean nothing to anyone anymore, it's all about their blood line, and although yours doesn't prove to be too, err… respectable, in the eyes of the King, your traits do," Al explained, his voice struggling to stay formal. He wanted so desperately to help this poor girl in front of him.

"Will I be married to Voldemort?" she whispered. Her eyes burned with intensity and her vision began to blur as tears pooled in her eyes. She expected Al to say yes, that she would be married to the 'King', and that she would bear his kin and live under his command. But instead he smiled softly at her seemingly immature question and shook his head.

Hermione held her face in her hands and let her body take control and answer the rest of the questions in this interview. Her mind was racing. She was supposed to be a wife to someone all of a sudden. After being locked up in a cold dark place for five years and having only just experienced sunlight and a glimmer a hope, she was not in the loveliest of mindsets. She could kill Al right now. She held herself back from glaring at him, as if this was his fault. He wasn't the one who arranged all of this, he was just the messenger. Her anger boiled through her viciously and she wanted to claw at something, to scream and fight and stun everything in sight. She almost gasped at the dark thoughts she was having, since she was never one to let her dark emotions get a strong hold of her.

Her mind went back to the battle scene, how the death eaters attacked the students and professors at Hogwarts. She remembered the spells being shot everywhere, how many wands were being pointed this way and that and how many people were crumbling under the pressure. She remembered the casualties and felt her stomach clench when she thought of Fred's lifeless eyes.

"Miss Granger?" Al asked, he was right in front of her now, prodding her arm gently with his finger. She snapped out of her daze and stared up at him with doe eyes, and Al recognized the beauty that he once saw in her. He knew she would go back to her normal self and become someone that the world needs and he was excited to watch her come to it. He reminded himself to keep a close eye on the newspapers for the next few years. "Are you all right?"

Hermione nodded slowly, knowing that any other answer wouldn't be satisfactory.

"I can take it from here, Vincent," he said to the guard, who thankfully nodded and walked away, happy to be relieved of his duties for a moment. Once he left Al led Hermione to the only door without a plaque on it. It was fairly nondescript with the same dingy and used look to the wood that the rest of the room had. Al unlocked the door using a nonverbal charm and led Hermione down a long hallway quickly. She realized the path was getting narrower with every step she took, and she grew weary of her surroundings. She looked behind her and could still see the office space and she let out a thankful breath.

Looking around her, Hermione gasped. On either side of her were shelves and she felt around, desperate for the familiar feel of the worn fabric spine of a book, but was surprised when she felt a cool metal tin box. She felt multiple actually, and as she opened her eyes wider and focused, she could see the light glint off of hundreds, millions of tiny tin boxes! She noticed small labels on each with names and numbers and opened a random one up, realizing that they were wands. She looked behind her and saw the same sight, and realized that these were all the prisoners' wands. She felt a shudder run through her as she imagined the curses that these wands could have cast and then she remembered that crime was probably no longer punished but glorified.

"Hermione," Al breathed.

Hermione flinched as she heard her name being said affectionately for the first time in years. Compassion was not something she was accustomed to anymore. She let Al grasp her hand for a moment and even let him plant a kiss on her fingers before pulling away slowly. She gasped and was ready to fight for her life when she felt Al pull her against him but he shushed her and patted her back comfortingly but Hermione remained tense in his arms. "What do you want?" she hissed. She was in no mood for this.

"I know you will amount to something amazing," he whispered in her ear, his breath was hot against her lobe and she shivered against his heat, "even in this world. You were destined to. Take advantage of your resources, and you will succeed, I can promise you that. The world has changed drastically in the last five years, more than you could ever imagine, and I know that if you get the right help you will be able to overpower King Voldemort and save us all. The wizarding world is no longer a happy world, but a dismal and disappointing place to live in. I look to you for hope, and I know you will make me proud. Good

luck."

Hermione felt herself blush and she felt a small hint of courage for a moment. She pulled away awkwardly and realized that Al had slipped her wand into her hand. She left it there for a moment, enjoying the familiar pressure against her palm, before holding it out and looking at it gratefully in her hand. She felt her knowledge rush back to her, everything she thought she had forgotten had hit her again and she remembered every spell and potion she's ever conjured. She smiled to herself and turned her back to Al as she examined the wand as if she had never seen it before. "Eleven inches, veela hair and dragon heartstring," she remembered, murmuring it to herself.

"What was that, miss?" Al asked, peering over her shoulder nosily.

Hermione was slowly becoming annoyed by Al, but she tried to continue to appreciate his hospitality. "Nothing," she murmured, her voice not entirely back yet.

"You will arrive at the Ministry by floo network, I'm sure you remember how to use it?" he paused, waiting for Hermione to nod and then continued. "There you will be met by an auror who will draw up some paperwork, including your marriage license, and from there you will travel to your new residence."

Hermione nodded again, slowly coming to terms with the idea of being someone's live in wife. The small romantic inside of her hoped for a prince charming, someone who would prove to be her light in this new dark world. She was afraid of who she would be married to, of what he might be like. He could quite literally be anybody – anything, actually. Voldemort could marry her off to Fenrir Greyback if he very well wanted to. She shivered at the thought. Her thoughts began to get darker and darker, looking for the worst case scenario. He could hit her, force her to succumb to his every whim and need; he could force her to become a housewife, only cleaning and cooking, with no time for her. He could make her use dark magic, or force her to torture others. There were many worse things in the world than her being someone's wife, she realized with a roll of her eyes, but this was the only thing on her mind.

"Goodbye Hermione, good luck," Al told her, handing her the pot of floo powder.

She thanked him with a cautious smile and she threw the handful of powder into the fireplace, shouting, "Ministry of Magic!" After five years of being stuck in Azkaban, she had very nearly thrown up by the sensation of travelling through the floo network. Next thing she knew, she had dropped to her knees on the cold black tiled floor of the Ministry. She looked up, her eyes wide as she took in the vaguely familiar surroundings. She recognized the statue that was mounted in the middle, and she shivered as she saw the tortured stone faces of the muggles underneath the wizards. She slowly stood up, suddenly very cold in the tattered prison uniform.

A young woman a tad older than her walked up to her and smiled tightly. "My name is Willa Shake," she said, shaking Hermione's small hand. "I'll be drawing up your release paperwork. If you have any questions just ask me." She led Hermione into an elevator and pressed the fourth floor button. When they arrived she led her into one of the private office rooms, where there was a large dark green wooden table, with bookshelves lining both walls, and one large portrait of the dark lord himself. Hermione's eyes widened when she looked at the portrait. She moved closer to it, eyeing it with interest. Voldemort's head was held high as he looked out of the portrait, and it looked as if he was sneering. She saw Nagini curl around his cloaked shoulders like a shawl, and hiss.

Willa watched Hermione curiously and noticed with discomfort that you could very well see the girl's bottom through the tattered robes she was wearing. She searched for a quill and called for Hermione to join her at her desk. "You'll be getting married to Blake Wright. He is the youngest son of the Wright family, who is a pureblood family and are very close to the dark lord. Their family is considerably wealthy with many philanthropic relatives. They have many famous authors, athletes, and Minister Officials in their bloodline, as well." As Willa continued on with the family description, she couldn't help but feel as if she were listening to a personal ad then to the description of her future family in-law.

"Blake went to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, where he completed all required seven years and received E's and O's. Afterwards he trained to become an auror and eventually, also to become a healer. He sometimes, rarely, goes on Ministry missions as an auror, but drops by St. Mungo's quite often when needed. He has no recent criminal activity.

"Blake is the second son of Alyssa Shea and Cornelius Wright. His older brother, William, lives in Scotland with his wife and kids. Blake has never been married or bared children and is twenty three at the moment," Willa finished. She looked up at Hermione from the file on her desk to see if she had any questions. Hermione's eyes were completely dry and blank, just two bottomless, emotionless brown eyes. Willa immediately felt uncomfortable and turned back to the file. "The King believes that the two of you can breed an exceptionally brilliant young man and expects nothing less from the two of you," she said, her voice a threatened warning.

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione demanded, her eyes narrowing. The 'King' was able to even control what kind of child she has now, too?

"You will have a boy or else the King will be very disappointed," Willa clarified. She sifted through some of the papers on her desk and handed Hermione the quill and paper, telling her to sign here, here, and here.

Hermione's hand was shaking so badly she knocked over the ink pot, and made quite a few ink blots around her name whenever she signed. She took one last fleeting glance at Willa, then at the portrait that seemed to judge her from across the room, and she sighed resignedly. There was nothing else she could do about this. It was better than Azkaban, she told herself. And besides, this Blake fellow seemed better than she imagined. It still frightened her how quickly a baby was demanded of her, though. She didn't think she was ready to be pregnant and carry a baby inside of her. She didn't even want to think of what would happen if it turned out to be a girl instead of a boy. But the more she thought of it the more she enjoyed the idea of a little girl to hold and put ribbons in her hair or to have a little boy to be rowdy and free in such a small confined world. She almost smiled before realizing when she finished signing her name that she very well might as well had signed all her freedom over to a stranger.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone had gone right down to business when Hermione had arrived at Wright Manor. Two house elves had gone to Diagon Alley to buy Hermione a new set of clothes, while another one had gone to fetch Lady Wright. Many house elves had apparated and disapparated out of the living room and they scampered around, rushing to finish their duties. Hermione sat and watched guiltily as the house elves ran around to meet their masters' whims and needs.

Willa sat beside Hermione on the comfortable couch as Hermione looked at the entire parlor in admiration. The ceiling was high and dome shaped as if in a cathedral. The walls were a dusty blue and lined with portraits and various shelves that held flower vases and books and pictures. The couch was pale white with golden trimmings, and across from it there were two arm chairs of the same pattern. It was so simple, nothing like Hermione would have thought to be in such a large mansion. The mood of the house was quite dull, and an aura of gray had seemed to emanate from everything in it. But outside the birds chirped and fluttered around the wide windows, giving background music to Hermione's observations.

Willa and Hermione smelled Lady Wright before they saw her. The smell of decaying flesh had filled the room, wafting around the two. Hermione almost gagged had she not looked up and seen Lady Wright. Lady Wright had pale white skin with frown lines on her forehead, but smile lines around her mouth. She had dark brown eyes, ones that resembled coal, and a pointed nose. Her hair was golden brown and fell short to her shoulders in pin-straight locks. She looked about fifty, and she wore a casual long blue dress. "Hello, who might you be?" she said. Lady Wright spoke with a firm voice that showed that she was not in the mood for time wasting.

"I am Willa Shake," Willa said after taking a shaky breath. "I'm an auror from the Ministry and I've brought the marriage certificates for Sir Blake Wright."

"And you?" this time Lady Wright addressed Hermione.

"Hermione Granger," she responded tensely. This was her mother in-law.

Lady Wright eyed the two suspiciously before moving to one of the sofa chairs across from them. She felt for her wand to make sure it was tucked into her boot once she sat down before speaking, "Blake isn't here right now, but I'm sure it wouldn't be too much of a hassle for you to return another day. I think it would be easier to return with the wife, as well, to speed things up."

Willa chuckled and gestured to Hermione. "This is the wife. Hermione Granger Wright," she responded, adding the name for good measure.

Lady Wright's eyes widened slightly as she scrutinized Hermione for a few seconds before responding simply: "That cannot be my son's wife." Her nonchalant shrug that followed afterwards showed how much she believed herself.

Hermione glared at Lady Wright. "What is wrong with me?" she challenged. She was never arrogant but she wasn't as insecure as some people may think she was. She was Hermione Granger and she knew that even now her name wasn't very well known, but she knew she was worth something, and for this woman to think that she wasn't even good enough to marry her death eater son? She was offended!

"You're a mudblood traitor," she hissed, her shiny white teeth baring.

Hermione gaped at the sudden hostility from the beautiful older woman before her. She had expected no less from a death eater; but the way her face had contorted into something that was so inhuman that it shocked Hermione. Hermione's mind started reeling with thoughts. This woman was not a human! There was something else in her blood, something that was evil and stronger than any human.

"I'll have you know-" Hermione began, standing up from her seat and pointing a finger at Lady Wright.

Willa pulled Hermione down with her and cast a silencing charm on her before she would cause a fight. Willa smiled apologetically at Lady Wright and pulled out Hermione's file to show to her. "She is a, er, mudblood," she used the word testily, since she didn't like it either, "but look at her achievements, her education and talents. She has quite valuable characteristics that, if combined with Sir Blake's, would create a beautiful child that would prove most useful to the King." Willa wasn't fond of the way she was able to lie her way out of these types of things, but it came in handy sometimes.

"Who called for this marriage?" Lady Wright demanded, pulling the file from Willa's hands and flipping through the various pages.

"The King himself," Willa responded.

Lady Wright gave Hermione a hostile glare. "You don't deserve my son."

Willa removed the silencing spell from Hermione. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Lady Wright and said, "I do believe it's the other way around." She let her eyes roam Lady Wright's entire body, searching for the place where she could have put her wand, and her eyes closed in on the end of a long elm wand sticking out of her boot.

Willa coughed uncomfortably and Lady Wright directed her gaze to the auror. "How dare you bring this filth into my home!" she shrieked, whipping her wand out and pointing it at the two. Hermione and Willa had their wands pointed back at Lady Wright, and she wondered for the first time all day whether Willa and Hermione were on the same side.

"Mum?"

The three women snapped out of the angry haze and looked at the doorway. Lady Wright lowered her wand immediately and rushed to her son, hugging him tightly and kissing his hair. Hermione shied away towards Willa as she realized that this was her husband-to-be. He stared at the two women warily, poising his wand at them beside his mother. He had his mother's dark eyes, with golden brown hair that was pushed back with the sides of his head shaved. He was tall with slightly muscular arms. He wore an entirely black suit, complete with a tie and cuff links, and a brief case he placed on the floor. "Who are you and what business do you have here?" he demanded.

Hermione kept her wand poised as she looked at Willa nervously, expecting her to answer. "We're here to draw up the paperwork," Willa responded shakily.

"What paperwork?" his voice was firm.

"For your marriage."

Blake's surprised expression fell to a knowing smile. "Ah, yeah, the marriage, I almost forgot about that."

"You knew of this?" Lady Wright gasped.

"The King spoke to me about it one day at work," he said nonchalantly, strolling over to the tray of tea that was on the coffee table. "He told me that he found a wife for me to marry and that we're supposed to have a son for him. It was kinda weird, but, I figured I shouldn't question it."

"Are you really that comfortable with some man controlling your future like that?" Hermione demanded. As she watched Blake eat the tiny pastries that were on a plate and sip his tea, she was reminded too much of Ron and how he could eat anytime, anywhere. She didn't like how much he was beginning to remind him of her, and so soon after meeting him.

"How dare you speak of the King like that, you filthy mudblood!" Lady Wright howled, readying herself to shoot a curse at Hermione.

Blake walked over to his mother and placed a comforting hand on her lower back and used the other to lower her wand. "I would really like it if you didn't point your wand at my wife," he said, winking at Hermione. Now he was beginning to remind her of McLaggen, she noticed with disgust.

Lady Wright stared wide-eyed at her son as she tried to fathom why he would betray her and embarrass her like that in front of their subordinates. "She's a mudblood and a traitor. She was just released from Azkaban! She is a criminal!"

"As am I, Mother," Blake responded, laughing. He didn't enjoy watching his mother plead with him this way but he knew that it would be good for the family if he married her and it would please the King. No one could afford to be on the King's bad side these days. "You really have no say in this," he clarified, looking his mother dead in the eye. She stared back at him, noticing how much he looked like his father. She searched his mind to see if he was bluffing, did he have a secret plan? She lowered her eyes embarrassingly as she realized he didn't, he was serious. She had no say in this, her baby was a grown man now.

"Besides we can't let a pretty face like yours be put to waste in Azkaban, can we?" he said to Hermione. He took her hand and kissed it, and she awkwardly pulled it back to her side.

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably. She barely had a plan, all she knew was that she had to play along for the time being, and after a few days or even weeks if necessary she would figure out a way out. She had to bide her time and win their trust before she could have a chance at leaving.

She looked up at the farthest corner of the room and imagined seeing Ron and Harry standing there, smiling at her. She tried picturing them without the blood and bruises that they had during the war, but she couldn't. She tore her eyes away from two of the most beautiful boys that she's come to know, and placed her gaze on Blake. "I'm looking forward to becoming a part of your family," she said hoarsely, her voice just barely above a whisper.

"Excuse me, Sir Blake? Would you mind signing a few papers so that I can leave?" Willa asked. Blake averted his gaze from Hermione and nodded consent. He signed his signature besides Hermione's on the marriage certificate and asked for his mother to sign as a witness. Lady Wright turned her head away from her son in disgust and marched out of the living room before disapparating. Blake rolled his eyes before forging his mother's signature, with surprising easiness.

He insisted on showing Hermione to her bedroom and added that they would, in fact, be sharing a bedroom. "Since that's what married couples do," he added, giggling awkwardly at his joke. Hermione tried to hide her disgust as she looked at the large bed that they were doomed to share. She suddenly felt him too close behind her as he pressed himself into her. "Lovely things will happen here," he whispered in her ear, gesturing towards the bed. Hermione started to walk around the room, pretending to inspect it, but in reality she was just trying to get away from Blake. It had three wooden dressers and a woman's vanity with a mirror and stool; a spacious bathroom equipped with a large porcelain tub and toilet, and two sinks and countless fluffy towels; and the walls were a dark comforting blue with large circular windows that had no curtains.

"Where exactly is this manor?" Hermione asked, looking outside the window.

"We're on the south coast of England, in South Essex, just outside of town," Blake answered easily.

Blake came up closely behind Hermione once again and placed one hand against the window pane and another on her arm, keeping her between him and the window. She scowled out the window at the beautiful view that showed the sea as she felt his carnivorous breath on her neck. She held her breath to keep from cursing the wits out of this idiot, and instead retreated back to her thoughts.

Blake was a criminal, that much was for sure. He was good looking and he worked at the Ministry under the King, meaning he had quite an influence in the government. He was smart and clever, and he had some type of control over his Mother that was indescribable . . . Also, with the hungry way he had begun to touch and look at Hermione the second he first met her she knew that nights in bed with him would be almost unbearable. He was the typically glamorized, spoiled death eater - and also, she added begrudgingly, her husband.

'I hate it here already', she thought. Everything was too big and the portraits were all nasty towards her and sneered at her when she walked by them. The house elves worked too hard, there was too much food, too much pampering! They didn't have to work for anything in this world of their's and she couldn't help but feel enraged by this. Hermione was used to being able to use her drive of determination, and now, she was beginning to feel like she wouldn't even need it anymore.

This was not what marriage was supposed to be! Where was the lovely kitchen where she cooked, the kids' bedrooms, the bookshelves filled with lovely books, everything that she had ever dreamed of in her future? Where was it? Where did those dreams go? She couldn't achieve that here, there was no sunshine, and no happiness here for a real family to work.

But no, she could still accomplish those dreams. She could still live with a loving husband and kids if she really tried to get out of here. She had to accomplish this not only for herself but for everyone; she felt that she owed this much for them since they tried so hard. She felt the weight of their dead souls on her shoulders, and she was not going to let them down at the hand of a death eater.


	3. Chapter 3

The first of the tears came when Hermione was taking her first bath in a while. She sat in the large golden tub and stared out at the view of the sea that she had from the window beside her. She wasn't thinking of anything emotional, but the tears came. She felt them burn her eyes and roll down her face quickly, plopping into the soapy water. She wiped her cheeks with her soapy hands and sniffled quietly, trying not to think much of it.

When she was speaking to the house elves in the kitchen, the tears streaked her face. The house elves rushed to her side, asking her what was wrong and offering various handkerchiefs. She laughed and sniffled as she grabbed them all courteously, dabbing at her eyes carefully. "I'm fine, I'm fine really," she assured them all, giggling as she handed the linens back.

Hermione never cried often unless she had a good reason to, and even then it was rare. She's cried over men before, and loss. But now, she didn't have much to cry over. She had to look at the bright side of things - she was being given a place to live, clothes to wear, and food to eat; even if it was in her 'husband's' home.

'Perhaps that is why I'm crying?' Hermione mused silently as she trailed her fingers across a banister as she strolled up the stairs. 'Maybe my body is mourning my stay here.' She smiled sadly as she rubbed her eyes.

Blake and Lady Wright had disapparated together early that morning. Hermione didn't bother to ask where they were going, she just nodded absentmindedly as Blake spoke to her about his work. She watched as they disapparated together with a deafening crack, and then went to search for something to do. She spent the rest of the day following the house elves around and exploring the mansion on her own.

Slowly, she walked through the corridors of the mansion, turning her face back and forth to look at the numerous paintings. She looked at their many faces and studied them carefully. In one of the paintings there was a group of giggling women, sitting together in a group with a group of men surrounding them, watching them hungrily. "Oh, look what we have here," one of them said, looking down her nose at Hermione.

"Lumos maximas," Hermione said, pointing her lit wand at the painting to get a better look.

"Get that blasted thing out of my face!" another hissed.

Hermione, used to hurtful words, did not even wince at the Veela woman's hostility. "Who are you?" she inquired. She cocked her head to the side.

"Read the plaque below, darling," said the one in the middle. She toyed with a hand of the man behind her and kissed it tenderly, looking up at him with doe eyes and grinning. He laughed exuberantly.

Hermione lowered her wand and read the plaque. "Sloane, Darla, Whitney, Flora, and Luisa Wright." She narrowed her eyes and looked up at the painting again. "How are you related to the Wright's?" she asked curiously.

Whitney, the one in the middle, answered her first. "We are Cornelius's half-sisters."

Sloane, on the far left, added nastily, "Not that that is any of your business." She gave Hermione a dirty once-over. "What are you doing here? No mudblood has set ever foot in Wright Manor, and I didn't think that precious Lady Wright would allow that to happen while she was alive."

"Barely alive," Darla corrected, giggling.

Hermione glared at the group of girls and refrained from ripping the painting. "I see that bigotry is passed down through the family," she muttered angrily.

"As is ugliness," Flora, second from the right, added immaturely. The rest of the girls went into a fit of giggles, taking pride in Hermione's slight embarrassment, and booed her as she stomped down the corridor.

"Such disgusting attitudes!" Hermione exclaimed to herself as she rounded a corner.

"Dolly?" Hermione called aloud after turning a few more corners. She heard a loud crack and smiled at the house elf before her.

"Yes, miss?"

"Where is the library?" Hermione asked the house elf. She knew that, in a home like this, there would have to be a library somewhere.

"There's a small library in master's study, but Dolly don't know if master would like it if you are in there . . ." Dolly answered, nervously tugging at the hem of her tattered dress.

"He won't have to know, now would he?" Hermione replied quickly. "Could you show me the way?"

Dolly looked around them apprehensively, as if waiting for Master Blake to round the corner and order her to do otherwise. She led Hermione through the corridors and up a few flights of stairs, and stopped in front of a wooden door with a golden door knob. "Master's study is at the top of the Wright Tower," Dolly said, pointing a shaking finger upwards. When Hermione nodded Dolly turned to go, but looked at Hermione with large, scared eyes. "Please be quick, Miss," she pleaded quietly. She disapparated suddenly and Hermione felt her heart break. Dolly seemed to be extremely afraid of Blake.

"Alohamora," Hermione said, pointing her wand to the door. The lock slid open and the door opened with an ominous creaking sound. She stepped inside and followed the spiraling stairs up to the very top where they seemed to disappear in a black abyss. Her eyes widened, who could survive making the trip up all of those stairs? She sighed and began walking up the stairs, determined to get to the study. If it really was Blake's study she would be able to find out more about him. If he worked for the Ministry, and possibly close to Voldemort himself, then he would definitely have some important documents in his office.

She heard a shrill laugh echo from the top of the stairs. She narrowed her eyes and rushed quickly up the stairs, following the laugh as it rang towards her. "Aparecium!" she yelled, pointing her wand up towards the darkness.

The laugh turned into a cackling, getting louder and louder as if closing in on Hermione. She pushed herself up against the stone wall and poised her wand, ready to battle, when suddenly a ghost rushed into her, pressing itself against her. Hermione shivered and gagged as she felt the entity enter her slowly. "Mudblood," it hissed. She recognized the voice immediately. "Filthy little mudblood! Stepping foot into my castle? Who gave you the right?" She felt it's hand enclose around her forearm. "Dirt runs through your veins, you filthy half-breed. Your self worth is as low as the respect that you have in this world now. You are worth nothing."

Hermione felt the cold air hit her cheek as she listened to the ghost. She felt tears prick her eyes. This was all too much like that night in Malfoy Manor. She felt the fading scars on her forearm burn. "Ah, my handiwork," the ghost sighed happily, running her silver fingers along Hermione's forearm. Hermione began to panic, fumbling for her wand and against the ghost. "REPELLO!" she screamed as a last resort, tears beginning to run down her face. Hermione kept her eyes shut as the ghost pushed off of her, flying towards the closest window with a deafening crash.

Hermione collected herself, holding back tears as she marched up the rest of the stairs. She tried disapparating multiple times along the way but she couldn't - she couldn't tell whether it was because of the wards that were set or if it was because her mind was flooded with thoughts of Bellatrix Lestrange. Finally, the disapparation worked and she found herself in the study. She shut her eyes, barely giving herself a chance to see her surroundings, and laid down on the carpeted floor. She hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed.

"Granger?" she heard behind her.

Hermione wiped at her eyes furiously and looked over her shoulder. She gasped.

"Draco Malfoy?" she hissed, standing up quickly and drawing her wand. What was this loathsome ferret doing here? "What business do you have here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he responded nastily, pointing his wand at her as well.

"I just so happen to live here," she spat. She hated saying it but it was the truth.

Draco glared at the girl. Did she take him for a fool? "Don't make me laugh. Why would the Wrights allow a muggle-born into their house? You can't expect me to believe that."

"It's the truth! And why are you here?" she demanded. She stepped closer to him, her eyes narrowing down to slits.

"If you must know," Draco drawled, strolling around the large mahogany desk he stood behind and towards the sofa that Hermione stood near. "Blake had told me to wait for him in his study. We have a few matters to discuss." He eyed Hermione curiously, noticing how disoriented she looked. "What was all that screaming out there?"

"Nothing," Hermione answered quickly. She glared at Malfoy. She couldn't forgive him for anything he had ever done to her.

There was a loud crack and the two looked at the door, from which Blake came. He grinned at the two. "Hello Draco," he greeted him, shaking his hand. He leaned in to kiss Hermione's cheek but she winced, and he quickly covered up by kissing her hand instead. "Draco this is my lovely wife Hermione," he introduced the two before taking his place behind his desk.

"We already know each other," Draco sneered. "Unfortunately."

Blake looked up and saw that Hermione hadn't moved from her place. "Was there something you needed, my love?" Blake asked. He noticed her puffy red eyes and her shaking hands. "You all right?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she answered, nodding her head vigorously. She vowed to ask him about the ghost later on at dinner.

"Would you excuse us, then? We have some work to do," he asked politely. Draco turned in his seat with an amused smirk as he watched Hermione squirm under her husband's watchful eye.

"I was actually looking for some books to read," she said defiantly. She went for the bookshelves behind the desk, trying to ignore Blake's gaze on her as she moved.

"Be quick then," he instructed coolly before turning to Draco. "Now about the exterminations; the Aurors have worked on a list of possible refugees. The Ministry is trying to get the list out to governments across the world to seek these people out."

"Seems a bit desperate, doesn't it? Is it that important?" Draco asked, leaning back in his chair and running a hand along his stubbly jaw.

"It is to the King. You should see the names on the list," Blake responded. He handed Draco a piece of parchment.

Draco's eyes scanned the list curiously, his eyes darting up to Hermione to make sure she wasn't listening in. He recognized some of the names as those of kids he went to Hogwarts with. "These are people from the war," he muttered, just loud enough so Blake could hear him but Hermione could not.

"Precisely. And what the King wants, the King gets." Blake noticed Hermione's stalling at the book shelf. "You almost done, dear?"

Draco almost gagged by how sweetly Blake spoke to Hermione. How could you look at her and want to be sweet? What was so inviting about Hermione Mudblood Granger? He felt guilty for using the word but it seemed to slip back into his vocabulary by working at the Ministry for so long. He smirked as Blake turned back to Draco with a dejected look on his face when Hermione ignored him. "What do you need me for, then?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"I need you to oversee the exterminations, basically to make sure that everything goes smoothly and that there's no mess or witnesses left."

"Would I have my own department?" Draco asked.

"Yes, with your own employees and office, as well." Blake smirked as he saw Draco slowly get reeled in to his offer.

"Excellent. It sounds interesting, and fairly easy," Draco noted.

Hermione snorted. "Of course, typical Draco Malfoy. Always taking the easy way," she muttered to herself, but she knew that the two men could hear her.

"Draco, will you excuse us for a moment?" Blake asked sternly. Draco silently rose from his chair, glaring daggers at Hermione, and left the study to wait outside. Once the door shut Blake strode over to Hermione and grabbed her arm and forcibly turned her around to look at him. She stared at him with wide eyes as he leaned down to hiss in her ear. "Don't you ever, ever insult a colleague of mine like that, ever again. I don't care what kind of history you have with them. From now on you do not speak unless spoken to." He let go of her arm and pushed her. They stared at each other with so much intensity Hermione almost crumbled under the tension. "Go to the room and stay there until dinner," he directed her. She was too afraid to be defiant.

Hermione stared at him for a moment longer with rage in her eyes. She was almost seeing red. How dare he embarrass her like that? She hated how helpless she felt in that moment. She stumbled out of the office and didn't dare to look at Draco Malfoy in the eye. She disapparated quickly to the bedroom, and fell to her bed with sobs raking through her body as she realized how much she was letting them control her. She was not weak, she reminded herself. You are strong and you will get through this.


	4. Chapter 4

After his meeting with Draco Malfoy Blake sat back in his chair and thought of what had happened with Hermione. He was fond of the witch, but he still found it hard to call her his wife. She was very defiant and smart and perfectly able to think and stick up for herself, all of which were things that Blake liked about her; but she was beginning to bother him with every small thing she did. He frowned and realized that he should probably apologize to her for being so rough with her. That isn't how you treat a lady, anyhow.

He apparated outside their bedroom door without a second thought and rapped his knuckles on the door. He was met with silence.

Blake scowled at her being difficult and called fauxe-tenderly, "Hermione, I just wanted to apologize." More silence. He slowly turned the doorknob and saw her lying on her side on the bed. He resisted the urge to climb into bed and comfort her the only way he properly knew how; instead he moved to the foot of the bed and looked at her through the darkness. "I'm sorry, I had no right to be rough with you."

Hermione's voice was clear and thorough, but had he known her any better he would have recognized the tremor in her voice. "It's all right."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione glared at his silhouette, ready to kick him in the gut and hex him to bits. "Yes, I'm positive," she answered, clearly annoyed. "Now, I'm trying to sleep if you don't mind."

Blake winced at the hostility in her voice but quickly resorted to his smirk. He sat beside her feet and grabbed her foot, massaging it with nimble fingers. "Come on, how could I possibly make it up to you?" he murmured seductively. He slowly raised her foot and kissed her heel. He licked her toe and nearly sucked it had she not pulled away and jumped off of the bed.

"You certainly cannot buy my trust after manhandling me that way, let alone by trying to seduce me by sucking on my feet, you disgusting pig," Hermione said, her lip curled in disgust as she grabbed her wand and marched out of the room, scoffing and muttering angrily. Hermione hurried across flights of stairs and down hallways. She rounded corners and passed windows that showed the indigo night sky. Angry tears began to prick her eyes as she realized what kind of girl the Wrights took her for - just another witch who could easily be charmed into bed with the right amount of money and time. She knew she shouldn't care about what they thought of her but she was never the most confident girl in the room.

After that awkward night with Blake she had decided to find a new bedroom for herself. She wandered throughout the night looking for a room that wasn't too small or too big, and didn't have a portrait in it. None of the portraits in Wright Manor seemed to be too polite.

The bedroom had a vanity, a modest bathroom, and a large bed with a canopy over it. The vanity had perfumes lined up against the mirror and a single silver hair brush. The bedroom walls were a deep emerald green with plum curtains with black lace on them. The bed had matching purple comforters and hundreds of down-feather pillows. What drew her to the room the most was the bookshelves that lined an entire wall. There was not a single space left on the shelves without a book to fill it. Thick or thin, poetry or philosophy, it was on that shelf. It reminded her of the library in Hogwarts.

She moved to the vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was much longer, reaching her lower back, but it was curlier than ever and more knotted. She took the silver hairbrush and dragged it through her hair, wincing as it pulled at her roots. She leaned in closer, realizing how red and large her eyes had become. She blinked a few times and frowned at her new appearance. She didn't feel beautiful.

She looked away from the mirror quickly and looked at her bed from her seat. It was too large for her small frail body, and she couldn't help but feel even more lonely as she thought of sleeping alone. She pointed her wand at the pillows and whispered, "Avifors." The pillows turned into silver birds that resembled patronuses, chirping and flying through the sheer canopy and flying around the room. Her lips trembled as she watched the beautiful sight. The birds eventually disintegrated, shimmering and fading into clusters of silver sparks that disappeared in the ceiling.

"Bombarda," she said, pointing her wand at the mirror. It shattered, with glass shards flying everywhere. Hermione felt a few prick her skin but she ignored them, looking at the mess with a slightly smug look on her face.

"Reparo!" The mirror quickly recreated itself as every last shard lifted itself up and flew to it's space in the glass puzzle.

She looked at the wand in her hand and grinned. She could do basic spells, and like George and Fred had done so long ago, she was using her wand to do everything. For a cup of water she would use aguamenti instead of asking for some from a house elf. The feeling she got when she cast her first spell after leaving the prison made her feel like how she did when she learned of Hogwarts when she was just eleven. She loved the new freedom she had gotten back ever since coming back from Azkaban.

The remembrance of the past five years flooded her overwhelmingly. She had just come back from prison! She nearly forgot. It was such a sudden change from the ominous darkness of the prison cell to the plush luxuries of Wright Manor.

"I'm a convicted criminal," Hermione said aloud. She couldn't help how surprised she felt every time she remembered this. As if everything she had experienced in Azkaban had actually happened to someone else, as she just sat and watched. She chuckled sourly as it dawned on her over and over again. She repeated it a few times under her breath, noting how unnatural it felt rolling off of her tongue. Her parents would probably die of mortification if they new she was sent to wizard prison.

Luckily, her parents were still in Australia living their lives as Wendell and Monica Wilkins. She never had the chance to return to them and alter their memories after the war, since she was immediately imprisoned. It was what was best for them, Hermione reminded herself. They would be in danger if they remembered everything she had told them about Harry and Ron and their antics. They needed this, she insisted.

Hermione shushed every thought of her parents and friends immediately. She knew how much it hurt to think of them. She couldn't let herself succumb to this. She retired to her bed with a book, making sure to keep her wand nearby just in case Blake decided to stop by.

Across the estate in Wright Tower, Blake sat angrily in his chair. He was absolutely fuming. Who did this girl think she was that she could walk around with her nose in the air? I gave her nothing but hospitality and love, he thought. I deserve some love in return!

He quickly scribbled a letter for his good friend on a piece of parchment, inviting him over for a glass of fire whiskey. He sent his owl, Bolt, out with the note and retired back to his chair. He sighed. What was he going to do about Hermione? This girl was fiery and defiant - traits that he used to like in a woman but now despised - and it made her almost unnaturally hard to be around. Blake wasn't a hard man to be with, just a little sex and some TLC and he was set, but if Hermione wanted to be difficult, so would he.

Blake looked up as the fireplace roared with life and looked at his friend with a bemused expression as he strolled to one of the chairs and sat.

"Took you long enough," Blake commented, pouring two glasses of fire whiskey.

"I had some things to take care of," Blaise Zabini answered lightly.

Blake handed Blaise his glass and they raised their glasses in a silent toast.

"What's the occasion?" Blaise asked.

"No occasion, I just got tired of this place."

"And a tad lonely?" Blaise added jokingly. The corner of his mouth raised slightly.

Blake enjoyed Blaise's quiet judgement of the world and his harshness, it was so much unlike Blake's charismatic and happy attitude. Blaise had a dry sense of humor with an even drier smile. Blake watched the shadow of the flames on Blaise's dark skin.

"Perhaps," Blake answered, shrugging and smiling.

"How're things going with mudblood Granger?" Blaise asked. He immediately remembered the girl from his years at Hogwarts when Blake told him of the arranged marriage. He enjoyed knowing that the Gryffindor Princess was put in her place after walking around the school looking down her nose at everyone. He remembered her bushy hair and brown eyes, and her awkward body that he insisted she hadn't grown into, although Draco sometimes disagreed.

"She's terrible to deal with, I want to hex her half the time she's in the room," Blake responded darkly. He drank the rest of his fire whiskey and enjoyed the burn in his throat.

Blaise chuckled silently. "Lovely," he drawled.

"She's a beautiful girl and incredibly intelligent," Blake said, "But she's an absolute terror. Even Mother hates her. But all of the house elves took to her."

Blaise grimaced as he remembered S.P.E.W.

"She won't even let me touch her!" Blake exclaimed exasperatedly. "She flinches at everything as if she's afraid it might hurt her. And she cries so much." He groaned and put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. "I genuinely liked her before, but I'm about to give up and go back to bringing girls home again."

"I never took you for the infidelity type." A wry smile striked Blaise's features.

"I'm not," Blake was quick to defend himself, but then looked at Blaise's wry smile and grinned a bit himself. "If I'm having sex with one person, why would I need another on the side? At least now I'd only be having sex with one person. I'm only married by law, of course."

"I'm guessing you forgot the whole point of this marriage."

Blake looked dumbly at his friend.

"You're supposed to conceive with the mudblood, idiot," Blaise spoke to Blake as if he were stupid.

"She won't even let me touch her arm, let alone let me get into her bloody pants."

"Sounds like a personal problem to me." He sighed when Blake didn't answer. "Do you really want to disappoint the King?" Blaise watched as his friend amusingly kept his eyes downcast instead of answering the question. He graciously accepted another glass of fire whiskey. Blaise didn't find Voldemort as intimidating as others and enjoyed watching his colleagues and friends cower under his reign.

Blake scowled at his friend and decided not to answer. Blaise laughed aloud.

Blake's scowl turned even darker as his friend laughed at him. "I wouldn't have invited you if I knew you were just going to tease me. I could have just invited Granger to join me for a glass of whiskey instead of your hateful arse."

They chatted for a few more hours about pointless things. Blaise eventually became more comfortable in his chair, leaning back and swinging his leg over the arm rest. He continued to crack bad jokes and snickering at Blake's jabs at Hermione. Blake enjoyed his friend's company. It was a good change from the professionalism he always had to deal with. Blaise held himself with good integrity and he often proved to be a good friend. It was because of him that Blake offered Draco the job.

Draco Malfoy. Blake thought of the name bitterly. He wasn't a big fan of Draco, but he knew that he was a good auror. He knew all about Draco's background - he had his file in his desk under lock and key - but he still didn't like him. His arrogance was deafening and, although Blake didn't want to admit it - he always felt a tad threatened when he was in the room.

Several days later, Draco Malfoy sat in his new office in the new Department of Exploitation and Extermination. Things have changed greatly for him since the war. His parents had been murdered since they were seen as traitors but the King still thought of Draco as possible ammo. He still saw potential in the young blond man as he did when Draco was only eleven.

Draco was grateful for the job that had been given but he wasn't about to grovel at Blake Wright's feet.

Blake Wright.

Draco thought the name with a snort of disgust. What kind of man was he? Taking countless women home at a time - sometimes without their consent - just to fuck them senseless and tell them to leave. He knew how highly Blake thought of himself. He had the type of arrogant demeanor that made everyone want to follow his directions, except for Draco. Draco was used to challenging others, and he knew he posed some type of threat to Blake. Although Blake was higher up in status than Draco was at the moment, Draco knew that he was the original favorite. The Malfoys earned the place that they had at the King's right hand before the war! But the Wrights suddenly swept up that post.

He leaned back and put his feet on the desk, trying to find a comfortable position in the large black leather chair.

And what the hell was that Granger fool doing at Wright manor? Bethany tolerates mudbloods as much as the King does.

There was a knock at the door before a teenage-looking girl popped her head in. "Hi! I just wanted to introduce myself," she began, her bubbly voice invading Malfoy's personal space, "I'm Lillian Beau, I'm your new secretary. I'm very excited to be working with you." She finished, smiling brightly at her new boss. Draco knew that she was just faking enthusiasm for the sake of keeping her job.

Draco stared at his new secretary in discontent. He recognized her eagerness to please her boss. He shook his head at her. "There's no need for so much false enthusiasm," he sighed. Then he began the spiel: "I may come in late very frequently. When I arrive I expect a tea or coffee on my desk including that day's files and whatever else arrives. You'll have a thirty minute lunch at around 2 o'clock."

He thought for a few moments before speaking to her. "If any women ever call for a personal call just tell them I'm not in, but take down their names and numbers."

She nodded thoughtfully, jotting some of this down.

"I think that's all, your desk is just outside. Knock before you come in."

She hesitated when she reached for the door knob. She turned around towards her boss with a sigh and said, "Don't you want to know my name?"

Draco liked to believe he didn't have time for silly games like these. He raised his eyes brows and smirked a bit before saying, "Does it really matter?"

That shut her up.

With a rather loud slam of the door Draco leaned back in his seat and waved his wand numbly as he thought, making snow fall onto his desk. Where was he supposed to start with this new job? This was new to Draco. It had only hit him when he sat in the large black chair that almost felt like a throne - he's his own boss now. He has his own department in the Ministry of Magic. No parents, no bosses, no one to answer to anymore. No one to tell him where to sit, how to eat, or how to speak to others. Everything would be decided under what he deemed proper.

He didn't like the new job post, but it would have to do. He knew that it would earn him the respect and money he needed so desperately right now, but the job wasn't exactly ideal. The title alone made it obvious - the Department of Examinations and Exterminations.

Draco wanted to be done with the death eater lifestyle - really, he did! - but in reality, it was the only world he belonged in. It was either stay in England where his family has been for hundreds of years, or move to another place where he knew no one and start all over from the ground up.

An owl pecked at his window, its feathers white and gold with large beady eyes that watched him as he got up to open the window and let the bird in. It dropped a small scroll of parchment on his desk artistically tied with a brown string before swooping back out of the window. Draco shut the window against the Winter cold before opening the letter. His eyes skimmed every word written in a slightly messy script, over and over again. He had already read the letter four times before settling back down to his leather bound chair, summoning a bottle and glass of fire whiskey to calm his running nerves. This letter was absolutely preposterous; it couldn't possibly be a serious request.

He sighed and poured himself more than half a glass of fire whiskey before reading the letter once again. This was preposterous.


	5. Chapter 5

Things were getting harder in Wright Manor. Lady Wright was becoming more and more angry with her new visitor, while Blake was becoming more and more lonely and finding it harder to stay faithful. Hermione had begun feeling more confident with herself and doubted herself less. With every passing day she had grown more and more defiant towards Blake, acting more like a disobedient daughter than a spiteful wife.

Just days before Draco nestled himself into his new office and began his work as head of the department, Hermione stumbled across what seemed like a storage closet, much like Snape's old potions closet. It was tall and narrow with golden brown wooden cabinets that spanned every inch of each wall. They each had gold plaques with Roman numerals and Greek letters. Each cabinet was small and held shrunken parchments.

Excitedly, she took as many she could, putting them in every contour and crevice she could stuff them in on her person and quickly left.

Locking herself in her bedroom, she read through each parchment, absorbing as much as she could. She felt like she was in the library at Hogwarts again, teaching herself spells and facts that all the teachers failed to remember.

She read through every page, trying to decipher the ink blots and faded writing. They were spells and potions! She could barely pronounce some of the spells and incantations, but she was determined.

The incantation and pronunciation titled each parchment, with scribbled notes filling the rest of the page with an essay of its origin, purpose, and uses. Squinting and bringing the paper closer to her face, Hermione noticed the oddest thing. In the corner of every page there was a small scribble, almost like a copyright signature.

"Use the Wright spells."

Hermione gasped and whirled around, holding her wand at the ready. Blake stood in the doorway, smirking at his supposed wife. "Use the Wright Spells," he repeated. "It was the corny name of the very first Wright shop that got us started on our fortune."

She kept her wand poised as she glared at him. She didn't beckon him to go on, but she didn't tell him to stop.

"Use the Wright Spells was a small shop that created spells for everyday use. It was created by one of my ancestor's on my father's side," he paused as he eyed the mess of parchments on her bed. "These are from the cupboard in the hall, aren't they? These are their spells. All of them were created by Wright family members."

"How interesting," Hermione drawled. Although her mind was highly fascinated by the interesting history the family had, she couldn't let it show. She slipped her wand back into her pocket.

Blake smiled warmly at Hermione, trying to remain unfazed by her sarcasm. "Care to join me for a drink?"

"I don't drink."

"Great, neither do I," he lied smoothly. "How about dinner?"

"I don't eat," she replied quickly, ignoring the loud rumble from her stomach.

At that, Blake had to bark out a laugh. Hermione gazed at him, wide-eyed. "You caught me there," he said, grinning widely. "Come on, join me for just one dinner? Just the two of us, I promise." His eyes flickered as he looked Hermione dead in the eye, neither letting their gaze fall. How could she resist? He was laughing at her jokes. He was telling her about his family. He was letting her snoop around in private files. He was turning on the Wright charm! This girl had to be daft to say no to his prize-winning smile.

Hermione sighed, knowing he wouldn't stop bugging her if she wouldn't agree eventually. She felt like she was back in Hogwarts, having to fight off the creepy school boys with a stick just to get to class. "Maybe one of these days," she muttered reluctantly.

Blake nodded. He'll take what he can get. "I'll hold you to that!" he exclaimed, before smiling politely and leaving. As the door locked behind him he scowled, storming down the hallway before disapparating to his study.

"How long would I have to deal with this?" Hermione and Blake groaned simultaneously.

Hermione hated the kind of men she attracted. They always came onto her in the wrong ways, never with romanticism, and always with such forceful and physical attitudes. She was no stranger to the sly smirk and the doe eyed look, or the suggestive glances and blown kisses. Hermione never minded being single, - she had her mind set on more important things, you see - but a great part of that was because of the men she was surrounded by all her life.

Once or twice she considered women, but she would quickly shake the thought away. That's not the way she swung.

Shooing away the mindless thinking, she quickly turned her gaze back to the parchments on her bed. "Using the Wright Spells," she mused to herself. "What a clever name."

After reading the incantation on the top of the page and skimming the essay, she pointed to the stool in front of the vanity and said, "Alarte Ascendare!" It shot up in the air, hitting the ceiling and probably even denting it. Hermione winced and quickly cast the Aresto Momentum charm to cushion the fall.

She sat on the floor, reading some of the various essays. She had to admit, she was thoroughly impressed. The essays were specific with the origins and uses of the spell. It listed the instances that it could be most helpful in, and with what other charm it could be most powerful. Hermione couldn't help but wonder where the intelligence had gotten lost in the gene pool before Blake was born.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted with a loud crack. She looked up to find Dolly balancing a bottle of wine and a silver platter. "Master Wright wanted Dolly to bring food for Mistress Granger," she said, placing the platter and taking the cover off. Hermione's stomach grumbled as she hungrily stared at the plate. Dolly noticed this and said, "It's Blanquette de veau and rice with vegebles." Her French accent was clumsy and obviously practiced.

Hermione noted with a frown Dolly's bad vocabulary. "Thank you, Dolly. It looks amazing," she thanked her with a smile. She eyed the wine bottle that Dolly was still holding against her small frame. "What is the bottle of wine for?"

Dolly set it down in front of her, grunting from letting the extra weight finally go. "Master Wright wanted Dolly to bring this to Mistress Granger." Dolly snapped her fingers and the cork unscrewed itself. The house elf quickly conjured a glass for Hermione to drink from. "He says 'let's be friends'." Dolly waved her small bony hand and the bottle began to pour into the cup.

"Thank you, Dolly," Hermione repeated. She couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive about drinking the wine.

Once the house elf left Hermione pointed her wand at the brim of her cup and said, "Specialis Revelio." Nothing happened, she noticed with a frown. She didn't trust Blake. She was almost positive that he had tampered with the wine, for what, though, she did not know. She spooned some rice into her mouth and muttered, "Friends my arse."

"Purificar," she muttered absentmindedly, tapping the brim of the cup and bottle as the spell cleaned the wine of poison. She raised the glass sarcastically at no one in particular, smiling ruefully as she thought silently, "Sitting on someone else's floor, drinking someone else's wine, in someone else's home..." She owned nothing.

She drank the thoughts down.

Around nine that morning, Blake apparated just outside the grounds of his home. He could see the large black gate, looming through the dripping white fog like a beast. It's iron bars curled in gnarled and demented ways, giving an uneasy feeling. Past the gate is the Wright home, although that is not for another mile. There are murderous bushes and carnivorous plants, with a few endangered animals here and there. Each was mother's personal touch.

Taking one last look around him, he began to walk.

Instead of taking a carriage or apparating to the Ministry, Blake enjoyed to walk. He would walk for miles, not breaking a sweat. It was the only alone time that he ever had throughout the day.

It was a gloomy day, with a graying-cloud sky and dull expressions on everyone's face as he walked down the business district's streets. Shops lined every side of the cobble-stoned street, with merchants and working class people rushing off to work. Blake smirked at their haste. He walked to work because he had the leisurely time to waste; in reality, there was no need for him at the Ministry. He could stay at the manor all day, lying around and doing nothing. Instead he chooses to go to the Ministry and pretend to be an important political figure. Unlike these people who passed him on the streets, he had no need for work, why would he need to earn a living when his living had already been earned for him, hundreds of years before?

His smug mood dampened considerably as he remembered the meeting that he had to have with Draco Malfoy about his offer.

Groaning inwardly, he pulled the collar of his pea coat up to cover his neck. Blake trudged on.

As he neared the red telephone box he mused, "Who should I have lunch with today?" Thinking over his possible companions, he tapped in 62443 on the number pad. Slowly, he descended into the Ministry entrance. He thought of his coworker Linda's long pale legs and how nicely they fit in those skirts she wears. 'She would do', he decided as he entered the Ministry.

Blake walked over to the elevator, ignoring the ominous statue that stood in the middle of the entire place. He could feel the shadow of the wizard standing above the muggles loom over him. Sliding out of his jacket, he stepped into the elevator andsmiled flirtatiously at the woman who boarded after him. She was older than him, with curly black hair and a toned black body, a long neck and dark brown eyes.

She returned his smile hesitantly, eyeing the young man in front her.

"I'm Blake Wright," he said, producing his hand for her to shake. Her smile turned wry and feline as she shook it. "I don't believe we've met before."

"Eliza Shacklebot," she replied smoothly. Blake drank in her voice, enjoying the amused undertones and kissing every syllable. Without a doubt, this tall amazon of a woman in a little black dress, was sexy.

"What a lovely name," he murmured. The elevator dinged and the large brass doors opened. "Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," the intercom said.

"Pleasure meeting you," Eliza murmured, leaving the elevator and disappearing down the shadowy hallway.

Blake, still intoxicated, rode the rest of the way up to the Department of Exterminations and Examinations. Ignoring the bland faces as he left the elevator, he strolled through the large circular entrance area and down the hallway, to the sole purple door at the end of the hallway. "Draco Malfoy, Head of Department of Exterminations and Examinations," the plaque read. Opening the door, he found himself in a quaint waiting room with a small blond secretary sitting behind the desk. He whistled lowly as he came in, smiling politely at the girl.

"Name, please?" she asked dully without looking up at him.

"Blake Wright," he answered, sitting down on the couch.

Suddenly the door behind the girl opened, revealing Draco Malfoy in a black suit, scowling at his visitor. "Get in," he said, walking back to his desk.

Blake, grinning at Draco's obvious irritation, walked in and looked around the office. "Looking sharp, Malfoy," he said sarcastically.

Malfoy ignored him and shuffled around a few papers on his desk.

"I'm here about Granger," Blake stated. He sat back in the comfortable plush arm chair and accepted the cup of tea that conjured itself on the small table beside him.

Malfoy sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "I hate this job, please don't make it even worse," he muttered. His voice was more of remorse than it was of pleading. His face was tired with dark circles and deep frown lines along his face. His eyes squeezed shut, hiding the icy blue orbs.

"I'm not doing this for your sake. I need her to be somewhere that she could be safe-"

Draco snorted, leaning back in his chair and chuckling sarcastically. "You want me to babysit your wife?"

"I did a favor for you it's only fair you do the same," Blake said, clearly annoyed by Draco making fun of him. His face visibly darkened, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"I want you to plead for it," Draco said. He grinned mischievously. He stood up, rolling his cuffs up to his elbows as he stared Blake down. He tried to keep from laughing as he watched Blake's face morph into anger. Blake stood up abruptly, his handsome face turning red as he glared at Draco.

"Excuse me?" Blake demanded. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think you would be in this office if it weren't for me?" He let out an angry string of curses, throwing his cup of tea onto the antique carpet. Draco rolled his eyes as he watched the young man's tantrum unfold in front of him.

Once Blake had quieted to a heavy breathing and the colors in his face had faded back to the simple pale color, Draco said, "Get out of my office."

"Your office?" Blake snorted. "This is my office! This is my entire building! This department wouldn't even exist without me!"

Draco rolled his eyes at Blake's melodramatics. "Fine, I'll help you," he sighed. "Now quit bloody whining and leave." With a wave of his hand the door opened itself, slamming to the wall behind it.

Blake tried to hide his embarrassment and quickly left the office after telling Draco that he would owl him soon. Practically running out of the department and Ministry, he silently thought, how would this work out?

Draco sat in his chair, his trademark smirk gracing his features. He enjoyed sneering down at Blake's tantrum and watching his face turn red with anger. A new glass of fire whiskey poured itself beside Draco's hand. Gratefully, Draco sipped at it as he looked through the various files on his desk, trying to get the thought of Granger from his mind.

'Beau Baudelaire,' one file read. 'Age sixteen, green eyes, brown hair, caucasion. Half blood. Escaped from Azkaban, wanted for murder and petty theft.' Draco eyed the picture carefully, trying to memorize the young face. Beau looked like he came straight from the countryside, with a deeply sad frown and droopy eyes, and sandy hair and rough skin. In his photo he was frowning into the camera like a child, and his hair blew in the wind as a train ran behind him.

How could such a young kid like him commit murder? Draco wondered as he thumbed through the file. It was a pile of various documents from throughout his life, even school documents like his results for his OWL's. He went to Durmstrang, but his soft child-like features seemed completely different compared to the harsh and rough features that he remembered seeing in his fourth year at Hogwarts. As Draco read through each document and got deeper and deeper into the child's life, he couldn't believe that he had to order this kid's death.

The glass beside him suddenly filled itself again, and Draco realized what kind of charm it had. Every time someone felt tense or irritated, a glass of fire whiskey would fill itself. Draco almost smirked as he sipped from the glass and leaned back in his chair.

Blake unlocked the black gate, his eye brows still furrowed in thought. He stepped through into the beautiful garden that his mother had the elves tend to. Blake could see the bobbing heads of various elves as they manually pulled weeds and watered the blooming plants. He strolled through the trails in the large garden, watching as each bewitched plant moved with each other in the wind.

He picked up a clipped blossom that was left on the ground as he lazily strolled through each grassy trail. He picked the petals off the blossom as he thought. And as always, his thoughts came back to Hermione.

He pictured her sitting in her bedroom and reading. He enjoyed listening to her read aloud, or casting spells. Blake hated to admit how many times he would stop in front of her bedroom door and cautiously listen to her voice, wishing that she would just give him a chance. He had agreed to this arrangement, not only to make the Kind happy, but to hopefully make himself happy. He's heard so many stories about arranged marriages going well, but things never really went along normally with the Wright family.

He stopped in front of a second large gate that led to a gloomier part of the garden. He had never dared stepping through this gate, instead stopping behind it to watch the poisonous plants hiss and snatch at each other. He threw the last few petals into the other side of the gate and watched as each pink petal gray and wither up.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his arm. He whipped around and caught sight of his mother staring gravely into the other side of the garden. She wore a large brimmed hat with a thin veil covering her face, and white gloves covering her thin, shaking hands. She smiled tightly at her handsome son, admiring the familiar child-like stare he gave her. "Hello, son," she said quietly.

He nodded.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Thinking," Blake responded. He fingered the last petal he kept as he stared into the dark garden.

"Don't waste your time on that Granger girl," Lady Wright advised. She smoothed her hand across Blake's shoulders comfortingly. "We could easily get rid of her. She's a waste of our time."

"She's my wife," Blake said. His voice was sarcastic.

Lady Wright rolled her eyes. "That isn't necessarily true."

Blake broke the few moments of silence. "I feel like I could love her if she gave me the chance," he confessed. His cheeks turned pink; he had not been able to admit that to anyone, not even himself.

In all truth, he admired the conviction she had. He could sense her bravery and intelligence from a mile away. He wanted to absorb the powerful golden aura she had about her every time she was in the room. He saw her a few times a day, and each time he would try and entice her with a few simple words, hoping she would fall for the charm, but she never did. She was too smart for him, too classy for his tricks.

Blake could never bring himself to admit that he would love to one day kiss her full pink mouth. No, that secret he could take to his grave.

Lady Wright's surprised breath caught in her throat. "Have I not taught you better?" she hissed into his ear. Her grip on his shoulder tightened threateningly. "Do you see what this parasite is doing? She is seducing you into breeding with her, into make disgusting little mutts that would run around and ruin our beautiful home and world." She grabbed Blake's face and roughly pulled it to meet her cold dead eyes. He stared into them fearfully. "I've lived all these years under your wing hoping you would lead this family to great heights once again, but obviously, I am wrong."

"No! I can, I really can," Blake pleaded. He grabbed his mother's hand and said, "I am doing everything I can for our family."

"Including bringing a mudblood into our home?" Lady Wright leaned in close enough to breathe on his cheek. "Is that considered a service to your family?"

"It was under the King's orders!" Blake assured. He was practically yelling, almost on his knees begging for forgiveness.

"And I have to continue living in my home, trying to ignore the slime that is inhabiting my property!"

Blake had tears in his eyes. This was his fault. He had agreed to marrying Hermione into the family, practically giving her everything that was his. He did it with the best of intentions, though! He wanted to please his mother with an heir, and to give the King a new follower. All Hermione did, though, was make things harder for him.

"I'll get rid of her," Blake muttered. He was on his knees in the grass now, his face in his hands.

Lady Wright glared down at her pathetic son. She ignored the temptation to strike him for being so pathetic and stupid. "How?"

"She'll live somewhere else." Blake looked up at his mother finally. "I promise I'll do it soon."


End file.
